OUR XHOSA TABLE

“This bowl of comfort is my dad’s handiwork. When things were rough, we’d make this together ” – Khanya

I TALK ABOUT MY GRANDMOTHER A LOT. Largely because I talk about food a lot, and no food legacy conversation would be complete if I didn’t mention her and the wealth of knowledge, memorabilia and cookbooks she left behind. Even back in the 60s and 70s when “good taste” was arguable and fancy food was either set in aspic, cooked in fruit juice or skirted with curly parsley, Jessie Mathabo “Ncinci” Haya was a stylish cook who could call a fad when she saw one.

Until recently, I had never used the word “heirloom” outside of describing vegetable seeds. I didn’t think I owned any heirlooms. It took a chat with TASTE photographer Toby Murphy for me to realise that my mom’s pickled fish recipe, which I hold in my heart with such pride is, in fact, an heirloom. So are my gran’s frikkadels and fluffy amasi scones. Heirlooms to which I have added new dimensions over my years of cooking.

I became a capable cook early in life. This meant that although I was raised in a typical Xhosa-speaking, Anglican household in New Brighton, Port Elizabeth, where we observed Easter traditions closely, I could skip the Easter Sunday church service if I stayed at home to prepare lunch. I was always helped by my cousin and best friend Lwazi, whose assistance came in the form of blasting Tamia and Tevin Campbell CDs, making us endless cups of Oros, and straining the rice.

When the family pulled into the driveway, the table would quickly be set and the food would have to be ready by 1 pm. My grandmother’s extendable oak table groaned under the weight of an unctuous leg of lamb, pickled fish (which my mom had prepared the day before), sweet coleslaw, home-made fizzy ginger beer with rehydrated raisins floating at the top, and either warm rostile picked up at the church hall for R2.50 a piece, or bread we had baked ourselves. Over the years, the table would be extended to make room for the different foods we would take from regular days and begin to add to our celebrations.

There’s something very “who wouldn’t like that?” about the foods I grew up eating. What’s special is the game of “telephone” they have all been privy to: tweaks in sweetness, spiciness, sourness; the addition of just-discovered ingredients along the way; the replacement of what’s